


Betsy and Baby Fatso

by vanillafluffy



Category: Criminal Minds, The Three Investigators | Die drei ??? - Various Authors
Genre: Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Spencer's visit for Aunt Matilda's funeral, the guys get closer emotionally. Spencer has shared his vulnerabilities; now it's Jupe's turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Betsy and Baby Fatso

When Jupe says he'll bring the car around, Spencer expects to see the plain sedan he'd been driving the morning Spence had arrived. Then the gate to the restricted area of the salvage yard slides back, and out rumbles a vintage vehicle that's anything but plain.

It's a rich metallic blue with serious chrome, huge bumpers that would laugh at a 15-mph crash-test, a vast, gridded grille. The windshield is divided in the middle, a sign that it's pre-WWII. Centered on the curvy expance of blue hood is a shiny silver hood ornament. The fenders are exuberent umbrellas shielding the wide side-wall tires. 

Jupe grins at him from the drive's seat of the convertible. "Like it?" he calls over the growl of the engine. He pats the steering wheel. "Let's hit the road."

Spencer is not and has never been a car guy. He's accumulated random facts about different makes and models, but as he settles into the light blue and white upholstery, he's at a loss.

His friend is pushing buttons on a remote. The back gate closes behind them, and the gate to the street rolls open. It, too, is closed after they pass by.

"This is a 1942 Cadillac convertible," Jupe announces as he maneuvers through the streets of Rocky Beach. "Very rare, because production on passenger cars was curtailed in early 1942---"

"---for war production," Spencer nods.

"That's right. I got this one from the daughter of the original owner, who said it had been sitting out back in the shed for as long as she could remember. There were 48 thousand miles on the odometer when I found it. I call her Betsy."

Their passage doesn't go unnoticed. A group of children follow behind them on their bikes for nearly a block. A man washing a car of more recent manufacture waves from his driveway. Other motorists honk as they go by.

"It's like a parade!" Spence exclaims as another volley of tooting greets them on the main drag. 

"I'm looking forward to taking her to some car shows," Jupe admits. "I've been on such a tight leash the last couple years, I haven't had a chance to really show her off."

"Where did you get it, and why do you call it 'Betsy'?"

They're heading north on a two-lane road, the Pacific off to their left, sunlight glinting like diamonds on the water. Jupe doesn't answer right away.

"I got a lead from a guy I know, who said an old man in Bakersfield had died, and his daughter was trying to get rid of all the crap he'd accumulated in eighty-plus years. That sounded promising, so I lined up a woman to come in and make sure Aunt Matilda had lunch and meds and didn't fall on her way to the bathroom, stuff like that.

"I drove out to the old man's place, and I swear, there was enough stuff for three junkyards. There was a big barn and a few sheds, junk all over the place. I filled the box truck with the best of it, and there was enough to fill a dozen more. Then I got to the garage.

"There was room for two cars. On one side, there was a crapped-out Mercury Monarch, circa 1978. Next to it was this dusty blue whale of a car...I looked at it, and it was love at first sight." Jupe gives an embarassed chuckle. "Ridiculous, right? But I could tell it was solid, no rust, and I needed it."

That doesn't really make sense to Spencer. The car is incredibly old, probably gets horrible gas milage, what in the world would make the imminently sensible Jupier Jones think it was in any way a necessity. "Why?" he asks bluntly.

"For years, I've spent most of my so-called free time fixing things around the yard. Repairing old appliances, sprucing up old furniture, making sure the fences are secure and the lights all work and the yard vehicles run...I wanted a project for myself. I wanted to have something to show for my tinkering for once, something besides a twenty-dollar bill and some skinned knuckles. This was it."

"But...Betsy?"

"It suits her. It's an old-fashioned name, but not too precious."

In addition to not being a car afficianado, Spencer has never understood people who anthropomorphize their vehicles and name them. "If you say so."

"Here we are," Jupe says presently, pulling off the highway and into the parking lot of Del's Burgers. It's a grey one-storey frame building trimmed with bright red. A screened-in porch graces one end of the structure. "I've been eating at Del's for almost as long as I can remember. I remember coming here with my folks and sitting on a phone book to reach the table."

The kitchen is to the left as they enter, as is the counter to order at. Pictures and adventising memorabilia dot the walls. To the right is a good-sized dining room, two dozen booths and tables, and beyond that, the screened enclosure.

The woman behind the counter greets him by name, and from the kitchen, more hellos are called out. "The usual?"

"Sure," Jupe agrees.

"Same for you, hon?"

"Whatever he's having," Spencer replies. It's a burger joint; the odds are "the usual" isn't going to be anything horrendously exotic.

"Let's sit outside," Jupe suggests, turning toward the far door. 

Spencer's gaze has fixed on two photographs. The first is a studio head-shot of a dark-haired, dimpled cherub beaming at the camera with an endearing gap-toothed smile. It's signed "I (heart) Del's Burgers! Baby Fatso". Beside it, the second picture is of a stocky teenage boy holding a bag printed with the Del's Burger logo, and the writing says, "Ten years later, I still love Del's Burgers! Baby Fatso". The cherub is a cute kid, but the sheepish-looking adolescent is unmistakably Jupiter Jones.

When he glances at his friend, Jupiter looks like he's got a bad sunburn, and he's no longer wearing the smile he's had during the drive.

They've taken seats outside at one of the red-painted picnic tables, and Jupe, sounding strangled, says, "It was twenty years ago. More than twenty years ago. I don't usually talk about it. I'd rather not talk about it. It's stupid."

His voice is so cold and his tone so final that Spencer's thoughts all slam on their brakes and he can't think of anything to say. The safest thing seems to be a comment on the general popularity of hamburgers among the American public, which he's about to contribute when Jupe starts talking, very fast.

"My mom wanted to be a movie star, but she got married and had me instead. She started taking me to auditions since before I can remember. When I was five, I got a part on a show called Quiz Kids. My character's name was Baby Fatso. I did that for almost two years---"

For someone who doesn't want to talk about the subject, he's got a lot to say. Off to the side, the screen door bangs, and the hostess comes out with their food. There's a huge basket of french fries, two chocolate shakes, and plates with burgers smothered in grilled mushrooms and onions and melted Swiss cheese.

After their server departs, Jupe takes a deep breath. "We were getting ready to film the last show of the second season when my folks died in a wreck on the PCH, and that was it for my show biz career. Not the end of Baby Fatso, though. I got teased about that all through school."

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles. This is the closest to angry that he's ever seen Jupe, and he's nightmarishly afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"Ah, hell, it's not your fault. It's just kind of a touchy subject for me." Jupiter bites into a french fry an sucks in cooler air. "Careful, they're fresh out of the fryer!"

The burger is daunting enough that Spencer unrolls the flatware from the paper napkin they're wrapped in and doesn't even try to pick it up. Jupe picks his up with both hands and bites into it. "I do love Del's burgers," he says once he's swallowed the juicy mouthful.

For a few minutes, they're busy eating. Jupe sets down his burger to consume more of the fries. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"You don't want to talk about it, remember?"

"I don't want to, but it's not a big secret, either. I know you, Spence. You've got questions churning away in that grey matter of yours. Let's hear 'em."

Spencer sucks at the straw of his milkshake, pondering. He remembers how surprised he'd been yesterday when Jupe had mentioned acting in a play. Now that he knows about this, he understands it better---and why Jupe had laughed about not being shy. But he knows a part like that must've been a lot of work for a young boy. "Did you like doing Quiz Kids?"

"Happiest time of my life," Jupe says, his voice rough. "But after Mom and Dad died, Aunt Matilda said she wasn't going to be a party to any such foolishness." His voice unconsciously mimics his aunt's. "An hour and a hour each way, five days a week? I don't think so!"

So far, Jupe has been dry-eyed in the wake of his aunt's death, but now he seems to be holding himself together by sheer effort of will.

"Basically, you lost your parents, then your job? That must have been hard on you."

Jupe applies his napkin to a streak of grease on his chin. "In the space of a week, my whole world turned upside down. Mom and Dad were gone, all my friends in the cast and crew weren't there any more, and instead of having lessons with a tutor at the studio, I was in school with a bunch of town kids who only knew me from TV and thought I was---diffeent. Stuck-up. Snooty."

"I'm so sorry. Children can be cruel." 

"We both know about that, don't we?" Jupiter's brief upheaval seems to have subsided. "For a long time, I wished I'd never heard of Quiz Kids, but now...it was good experience. I'm pretty confident when it comes to meeting new people. I may be reserved with people I don't know well, but I'm not shy. And the money I earned was banked for me. Not tons of money, because salaries were a lot more modest twenty-odd years ago, but I've got a healthy six-figure cushion in the bank. Plus a few residuals from things like syndication and DVD rights."

"Are you the sole owner of the salvage yard, too, now?"

"I already am. We took care of that last year, because Aunt Matilda hated the thought of me having to pay inheritance taxes. We transfered everything into my name, which was fair enough, when you consider I've been running everything for the last few years anyway."

This seems to be a safer topic than Jupe's career as a child star, so Spencer cautiously pursues it. "Are you planning to keep it going?"

"Absolutely. Although I'll hire some help so I can make buying trips again and maybe take a vacation once in a while. I've never been to DC."

"Can you afford that?" Spencer blurts, then bites his tongue, because he knows money is another sensitive subject for a lot of people.

To his relief, Jupiter doesn't take offence at the question. In fact, he's smiling.

"I can now," he says. "It was a juggling act when I took over. Uncle Titus usually managed to squeak by, but Aunt Matilda on her own just couldn't keep up. I got things organized, upgraded the infrastructure, made buying trips until she got so sick, and, the biggest thing---started on-line sales. These days, that accounts for about 60 percent of our business."

"So, you're operating in the black?"

"That's right. No liens, no mortgages on the yard or the house, nothing with outstanding payments. It's all free and clear, and there's money in the bank. We pull in enough to cover the general operating expenses, and if did I want something major that I can't fix or barter for---which isn't much---I've got Baby Fatso's piggy bank to draw on."

Spencer nods, glad to know his companion isn't in dire straights. In the space of just a few days, Jupiter has gone from being a warm acquaintance to a good friend, and, he has a feeling, that's just the beginning.

***


End file.
